Review Summary: Hamsterwheelcore
Since the release of
Mothership, Dance Gavin Dance has been operating within a certain comfort zone. Metaphorically, it’s like Michael Bay using explosions and excessive lens flares, or Aaron Rodgers repeatedly winning NFL MVP awards, but seemingly being unable to make it to another Super Bowl. No matter how
predictable (as in Bay) or
reliable (as in Rodgers) they may be, they are comfortable in a certain sphere of activity, and so sell themselves short.
Jackpot Juicer is no different, and now that the novelty has worn off, it has become evident that Dance Gavin Dance are stuck in a hamster wheel, running as fast as they can and getting nowhere.
This record should be great. On paper, it
is great. All of the ingredients are there! I mean the production is good, the vocal performances are good, I still love Matt Mingus, Tim Feerick (RIP) is as funky as ever, and Will Swan still knows his way around a guitar. Yep, totally should be great, right? Except it isn’t.
It’s not exactly offensive to the ears. I’d even be willing to say it’s acceptable, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s so lazy. Sure, maybe the fan base didn't want DGD to change anything, and hell, I'd be perfectly fine with another album of the same quality as
Happiness or
Mothership or like
anything written by the band before 2016. But it seems like their current template has precluded the need for any innovation or effort. Apologists are going to buy it and listen to it and say it's the greatest thing ever written, right? So why bother? Why bother trying? Maybe I’m being a bit unfair, they truthfully are exceptional musicians, but it does beg the question: Why am I investing my energy (not to mention my money) into liking it if they are not investing their energy into making it good?
The reality is that there are many bands that have specific formulas or templates, but there’s an art to making them stay fresh or relevant. DGD’s once original approach to post-hardcore has become so stagnant, however, that their apparent solution is to increase quantity, not quality; more breakdowns, more jazzy segments, more guitar noodling, more…
Tilian, oh, and more songs too. All of it results in an album that is bloated beyond likability.
What makes it even more frustrating is the fact that there are some legitimately good moments sprinkled throughout the record, as if DGD are trying to break out of the prison they have locked themselves in. Unfortunately those brief redeeming segments are swallowed by the absurdly long runtime, which by around track eleven killed any hope that I would have enjoyed this. For all the tight arrangements, slick guitar riffs, and frenetic drumming, it's devoid of almost anything substantial. It's time to face reality: The soul of Dance Gavin Dance is gone and all that’s left is a group of automatons writing music that sounds pretty, but is totally meaningless.
It’s slightly upsetting to have such a caustic outlook on a band I used to admire so much, but painting feces gold never did anything for anyone, and I refuse to do so here. Considering the circumstances surrounding DGD at this time, Will Swan probably needs to do some soul-searching. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s time for Gavin to get off the dance floor. I don’t know. All I know is that if you’re planning to listen to this, have some Pepto-Bismol handy.
